


Battles of the Heart

by Duchess_Of_Dumpsters



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Elder Scrolls AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Shipping, hopefully, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Of_Dumpsters/pseuds/Duchess_Of_Dumpsters
Summary: Tango is fed up with life as little more than a beggar on the streets of Imperial City, so in an effort to change his fate, he joins the arena.On the same day, joining the apposing team, is the misfortunate Jevin, the mistake, or perhaps the ploy of another costing him his position within the city guard.
Relationships: Handrights, Jevin/Tango, Tango/Jevin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Battles of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BastardBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardBin/gifts).



> I've taken some big creative liberties with the oblivion setting, some cannon characters have been replaced with hermits but some have not, have fun guessing who's where if you've played the game!!

A deep breath in, steadying, calming. The chanting of the spectators combined into a single din, a noise he pushed to the back of his mind. His hand tightened around his sword’s handle, as unfamiliar in his hand as the blue raiment he wore. The announcer’s voice rolled out, magically enhanced to drown out the crowd, calling out the rank of the yellow team combatant; the crowd cheered, a familiarity to them. They’d seen this fighter before, which meant they’d won at least once in the past. Slowly he looked up at the iron gate before him, at the arena’s battleground beyond it, at the blood-spattered stone walls that rose too high to jump and scale. Above that were the rows and rows of seats, filled by the gamblers, the board, the noble, the curious. Across the arena from where he stood was another gated pit much like the one he stood in, with a door to the yellow team’s Redroom no doubt. The combatant there, twirling their blade in their hand… they looked…

Excited.

Tango felt like he was being pulled apart by their gaze alone, that they were already deciding the best way to gut him alive. Again he steadied his breath, fought down his rising fear, shoved away his thoughts of just how out of his element he was. It was too late to back out now. This was his chance to finally start working his way towards becoming  _ someone _ . Not just another forgettable name written on a cheap slab of stone left forgotten at the far end of the waterfront.

Then again if he lost this battle… that’s exactly what he’d be.

“And in this corner, fresh blood! The Blue Team’s newest Pit Dog!” The announcer’s voice rattled over the arena, sending a chill to Tango’s very bones. His first battle… his name not even enough for them to bother with. With a squeaky rattle the iron gate began its descent, as soon as both were low enough the yellow team’s brawler was already stepping into the arena, clearly eager for this fight.

Tango wished he could say the same. Still, with a small huff he drew his blade and charged ahead, throwing his uncertainties to the wind and flashing a big toothy grin at his opponent. Oddly enough, that seemed to startle or at least confuse the other fighter and Tango didn’t waste the opportunity, he stepped in fast before swinging hard. The brawler jumped back, but not fast enough to entirely avoid damage. It was almost startling how the sharp blade glided through fabric and flesh alike, leaving a slash on the other fighter. Quickly Tango had to dodge, as his opponent wasn’t going to underestimate him further. The other blade came whistling through the air in a downward arc, the metal ringing almost painfully in his ears and reverberating down his sword and jarring through his arm. He couldn’t help but flinch, leaving him precious split seconds to move his guard as the blade came rushing in on a backswing.

He was more prepared that time, even managing to move with it enough to deflect the blade, sending it out wide. Not wise enough in swordplay to know what to do next but aware that dirty fighting was allowed… Tango stepped in fast to punch the brawler in the face, staggering him. Not slowing down he brought his blade back around, point first and lunged forward…

The way the yellow team Brawler slumped… with a strangled gasp as blood spilled over his lips… the way his weight took the blade down, leaving the body to slide off the blade and land with a thump to the dirt… it was all very…

Horrifying.

Slowly he stepped back, lowering his sword until its tip dragged the dirt, swallowing hard against the rising lump in his throat. The roar of the crowd, the booming voice of the announcer, they became a distant hum, drowned out by his own focus as it zeroed in on the body on the ground, on the blood pouring out over the ground. Tango’s chest felt too tight as he tried to draw in a breath, his legs shaking as he took another step back.

He’d never killed anyone before…

He’d never realized…

It seemed cruel… how easy it was.

Slowly he staggered back a few more steps, somewhere hearing the gates roll down again, it was then the noise all but overwhelmed him. He shut his eyes and turned to run. He tripped over the crevice for the gate, stumbling through the pit towards the door. He hit the old wood door heavily enough to jostle it open. Somehow he managed to regain his footing enough not to tumble down the curved, sloped, bloody handprint covered hall. Shakily he followed the overabundant red smears to the Redroom, to the basin of renewal… He paused beside it, before leaning on it. He felt its cool, healing magic wash over him, not that there was anything to repair. He stared at it in silence, at the opaque crystal surface, at the metal frame wrapping it, inset with little diamond-shaped rubies. A clear and obvious mark of the temple, the little symbol designed to reflect the Amulet of Kings… he couldn’t quite grasp how something likely bearing holy enchantment had been justified for use in such a… gruesome way.

Tango wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, just leaning on the table-shaped relic, or how long most would take to come to terms with such a thing. Still, he eventually found himself pushing off of it, a little more steady as he walked back into the Bloodworks, as he followed the curving wall to where it dipped into the next room, where Owen was still leaning against a wall, or perhaps had returned, Tango had no idea.

“Well well well, turns out I was wrong, you fight marginally better than my dead granny.” The man said with a coy smirk, but it slid from his face as he looked Tango over. “Hey, listen kid. Not everyone is cut out for this kind of thing. Here, take your pay and go get some air. You’re still green and no one will think twice about it if you decide not to come back.”

Tango nodded slightly, accepting the pouch of coins before making his way back out of the Bloodworks through its main door. He wasn’t sure where to go or what to do, what he should do. Everything seemed a bit heavier as he walked out into the late afternoon sun, ignoring the chatter of people placing bets for the next fight. With a small shake of his head, he meandered along the street. Following the path along the arena’s outer wall without taking much stock of it. Without really noticing the gardens surrounding it, or the people milling about there, at least, until one called out to him.

“Hey you, newblood, what’s with the long face? You won didn’t you?” The stranger called out and Tango paused to glace over, seeing the wood elf sat atop a stack of crates under one of the district’s pavilions. Next to him, leaning on a pillar was a high elf unsettlingly pale with a shock of red hair. “You’re still breathing, that in itself is a blessing.”

“I…” Tango blinked, uncertain.

“There is a time and place for compassion for your fellow man, mer, and beastfolk. Inside that ring is not one of them.” The redhead said, flicking a coin then catching it casually.

“You say that… but I…” Tango said, finding himself walking over to the pair.

“Listen, everyone inside that ring signed up for exactly what you just went through, all of them know there’s a chance they’ll die, didn’t you?” The mer asked, tilting his head a little.

“I- well of course I did but it isn’t like I had anything to lose.” He frowned, glancing between the two elves of drastically different height. His mind drifted back to his soggy bedroll nestled between the buttresses of the waterfront district’s wall.

“So you mean to tell me that your life means nothing?” Asked the other mer, flipping the coin in her hand again.

“Well no-” He started to argue but fell short, not sure how.

“You’ve got to value your own life, if you don’t, you’ll lose it. Nor can you let the lives you take to protect yourself weigh down your soul, else their blood was spilled without reason.” The wood elf on the crate stack said with a wave of his hand, sounding rather sagelike… if not somewhat confusing.

“Of course, if you want to change your line of work you can always meet us behind the abandoned house in the waterfront district after midnight. I’m Cleo by the way, he’s Joe.” The redhead said, motioning at the mer on the crates. Realization settled in as he looked the two over again, taking note of the leather armor both wore. He’d overheard those meetings more than a few times.

“You’re thieves guild…”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, we’re just liberating the rich of some of their clutter.” Joe said with a shrug.

“Killing is against our code as well, if you decide you really detest the arena.” Cleo added, inspecting her nails.

“I’ll consider it.” Tango sighed, not really certain what to make of his options.

“Up to you, just keep in mind what I said.” Joe said with a dismissive wave.

Tango nodded somewhat absently before turning away. He made his way towards the gates to the market district, desperately needing a change in scenery. Once through he paused, standing off to the side to count how much gold he’d received. It wasn’t a lot, it felt somewhat insulting to the life ended to earn it, but he shoved the thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what had already been done. Instead, he turned towards the inn, there was enough for a couple of meals and a night in a real bed. Besides, a bath sounded like a long out of reach blessing.

\--

So this is what he’d been reduced to? Jevin sneered to himself as he looked down at the yellow raiment that adorned his body now. Despite being the ‘heavy’ version it was a far cry from proper legion plate. Shaking his head, the disgraced guard pushed open the door at the top of the curved hallway and stepped into the gated pit. The sky was losing some vibrance, the hour growing late in the day. This would likely be the last battle of the day for the arena. Drawing his blade as he stepped up to the gate he ignored the noise all around, not caring for the showboating of the announcer, not caring about the gamblers and spectators. None of that mattered, all that mattered was the task at hand. The battle about to begin.

The gates finally lowered not a moment too soon and Jevin stalked out into the arena like the trained soldier he was. He held no concern for his opponent, watching the movements, the weapon, noting the level of comfort with ease. Jevin walked to the center of the arena before ever drawing his blade, his opponent cautiously sidestepping and eyeing him. It was clear the combattant was nervous but if warned ahead of time that made perfect sense. After all, it wasn’t every day a legionnaire was dismissed and left to fight in the arena to make a living. Of course, it wasn’t every day a legionnaire was wrongly accused and dismissed either. He spun his sword in hand before darting forward, forcing his opponent to backpedal fast. The Blue Team fighter was quick in response though, darting to the side and right back in, axe chopping down hard but Jevin brought his shield round to bare just in time to catch the blow. Jevin heard the shield crack under the impact, it wasn’t as sturdy as what he was used to, nor was it as heavy, and he knew he had to take that into consideration. With a heave he shoved his opponent’s oppressing weight away, staggering the combatant. Right foot forward, sword arm arching upwards the combatant had to drop to the ground just to avoid getting hit.

Jevin angled the point of his blade down, his arm straight, bringing his left arm up, shield blocking his body as he marched forward. The combatant rolled back to a standing position, bringing the axe up over then down, aiming for Jevin’s face. Jevin was fast to snap his shield up angling it just so that it deflected the strike out wide. In the same breath he brought his sword up fast, putting his weight behind the movement and darting in close, running the blue team combatant through. A look of shock filled the combatant’s face before Jevin took a step back, pulling his sword with him in one fluid movement, letting the loser fall dead to the arena floor.

Still he ignored the crowd, unphased by it, as he turned back for the door down into the Redroom. He shook the blood from his blade before replacing it in its scabbard on his hip. In all honesty he gave himself no time to dwell or think on the battle he just walked away from, not much reflection given as he pressed his hands to the enchanted basin, letting the magic wash over him. None of it really seemed to matter if he was quite honest, none of it, this was bloodier work than being a city guard, yet there was no difference between this and being a soldier as far as he could tell. The scale was smaller but it still served little more purpose than to entertain bored nobles.

It was sickening.

He had no words for it beyond that really, just ready for this horrible day to end. Between the humiliation of being stripped of his rank and the frustration of having to stoop so low as to join the arena, he just wanted to sleep. He stepped into the Bloodworks without so much as a word to his fellow teammates, brushing past one brash orcish woman who shouted some unheard obscenity at him. He didn’t care, rounding the corner to speak to the Blade Master, Biffa.

“Well done out there, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any less.” He said, tossing a pouch of coins to Jevin, who caught them easily. The pouch was light, there wasn’t much there but considering pay was per fight he didn’t expect much this lowly ranked.

“Show me an actual warrior and then you’ll have a battle worth watching. Until then these upstarts are just getting sent to slaughter.” Jevin shrugged, tucking the pouch into his belt.

“With an attitude like that, you’ll be facing the Grand Champion in no time.” Biffa chuckled, leaning against a support pillar.

“Who’s that?” Jevin asked, he’d never paid much attention to the arena before today, thus, he really had no idea who held what rank, but that one sounded important.

“Agronak gro-Malog, or, as the public knows him, The Gray Prince. He’s got the honor of wearing a red raiment, you’ll see him training down here on occasion but more often he haunts the Blue Team, since he was one of them before becoming Grand Champion.” Biffa explained easily, not seeming troubled to go over a bit of the recent history of this place.

“Well he sounds interesting at least.” Jevin shrugged.

“That’s a bit of an understatement but fair enough I suppose. At any rate, it’s late and there won’t be anymore matches today, go get some rest.” Biffa said with a dismissive motion before pushing off the pillar. He likely had some duties or another to attend to and Jevin didn’t really care to stick around to find out what those might be. He headed out instead, mind left to wander. It had been so long since he’d had to worry about where he would stay at any given time. He glanced into one of the rooms as he passed it, bedrolls spread on the floor, but those likely all had claim by other teammates so with one last longing thought of his bunk back in the guard barracks, Jevin left the Bloodworks. The evening air was still, the vaguest hints of rain in the air, like a quiet promise from the sky to wash away the sins of this day.

If only it could be that simple. He sighed, making his way toward the market district, no sense getting caught in a storm.

–

Tango let out a long sigh as his tense muscles relaxed under the grip of warm water. He’d forgotten how nice it really was to take a bath, how long had it been since he’d had a proper one and not just a dip in lake Rumare? He couldn’t remember. The fact that use of this room had cost a few extra coins was hardly of any concern, blood money as it was, the words of the thief from earlier had stuck with him.

After all, everyone signing up for the arena knew they may well die, Owen had tried quite hard to turn Tango away even, not that Tango had listened.

Part of him wished he had.

There was no going back now though, no washing the blood from his hands, no changing the course he’d now set himself upon. He had to accept that, he had to let that reality sink in because there was no escaping it. No matter how much he wanted to, this was the cost of rising from the slums. Those very slums were a far cry from where he was now though; with nice smelling soaps and oils to clean his hair, to scrub away the blood, the dirt, and the stink of so long with nothing. He sank further under the water, as if that alone would let him escape for a while, let him get away from whatever tomorrow had in store for him. He wasn’t sure he had what it took to get where he wished, to earn enough blood-soaked gold to get a foothold on a real life. Perhaps if he was lucky, he could learn a few spells along the way, get his foot in the door of the mages guild.

Somewhere amid his musings the water got cold, it wasn’t a surprise really, even an inn as nice as this one likely wouldn’t shell out the coin for enchantments that would just cause patrons to have to wait in line for the baths. With a disappointed sigh he rinsed his hair and climbed out of the tub, taking a moment to dry himself, quietly appreciating the ability to do so. So often, caught out in the open rain, left to sit in the sun later, the same with baths in the lake… Glancing back at the tub, he found himself grateful all over again, being able to clean up without having to worry about hungry slaughterfish was a blessing all its own. Shaking the thought away, Tango reached over to grab the light raiment he’d been wearing before, it was cleaner and in better shape than the clothes he’d worn into the Bloodworks in the early afternoon so he saw no reason to wear anything else for now. Perhaps once he’d won a few more matches he’d be able to afford something more suitable for wearing around the city.

Initially he liked the thought, but a flash of just a short while ago crossing his mind, of the blood, of the din of cheers… He couldn’t shake that the cost of anything ran deeper than just a bit of gold. There was more to it all than just that and no matter how hard he wanted to deny the truth he knew someone’s life was lost to grant him this evening of simple comforts. With a shake of his head, he shoved the thoughts aside, set the tub to drain, and tossed the used towel into a basket by the door. He tried not to let the memories of earlier take hold and haunt him as he climbed the stairs up to the Inn’s dining room. There was a bit more commotion now than earlier, he noted as he glanced at the mostly filled tables and bar. He walked past one table that held only one patron, the man’s posture and stony expression made him think of a guard, but the man wore civilian clothes, so he must be off duty.

Tango made sure not to let his gaze linger too long, while the man might have been handsome, he also looked easily irritable; the last thing Tango needed was to annoy the legion. The rest of the room held interesting figures as well though, as he glanced around. There was a brunette woman sitting on a bench near the main door, she wore armor of a make he didn’t recognize, a sweetroll aloft in one hand, a book in the other. Despite sitting where she was he could tell she was quite tall, a nord no doubt, and likely so, she’d be able to snap him in half if she had reason. So again, he didn’t stare, not daring to give such a reason. He sat at the bar, a seat away from a couple of other people less interesting, commoners he’d seen around before, even potentially received a handout from in the past. He didn’t strike up a conversation though, really, he had nothing to say.

It left him feeling quite lonely despite being in a room full of people.

That was nothing new to him though, not with the life he’d lead thus far.

Before his thoughts could trail along that line however, the innkeeper was before him, leaning on the bar slightly, offering a bright smile. “Ah, you’ve returned, were the baths to your liking?”

“They were wonderful, thank you.” Tango nodded and the man seemed all the more cheered for that. His short brown hair was well kept but there were clear marks of an adventurer to the man. Not limited to but most notably his left eye, which looked to be made out of some enchanted blue stone, held in place by silver facets.

“Wonderful! I’ll get you some food, sit tight.” He said cheerfully, walking back towards the kitchen.

It felt odd, in its own way, to be treated like an equal, like a person and not some living trash caught up on the city street in a storm. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be treated just… as a living person. He didn’t want to go back to living on the streets, not by any means… but the cost of moving up in the world, from where he’d fallen so low, it wasn’t an easy one to accept. He couldn’t dwell on it further though, drawn from his thoughts by the bowl of stew and fresh bread set before him. It looked hearty, it smelled delightful, and if the innkeeper said a word Tango missed it, having to use quite a great deal of willpower not to eat like a starved animal. It was worth it though, forcing himself to savor the taste, it felt like it had been such a long time since he’d had a proper  _ warm _ meal. Truthfully; the meat, potatoes, and carrots in a thick broth seasoned with he couldn’t begin to guess what, instilled hope of life anew, of a second chance. Or perhaps he simply needed sleep.

Whatever it was, he didn’t get a chance to ponder on it as a fist slamming down on a table behind him startled him nearly out of his skin. Looking over Tango saw there were now two more legionnaires at the table of the one he’d noticed first. They loomed over the guy, intimidating and… angry even.

“You really have a lot of gall to show your face around here.”

“The captain will hear of this-”

“The captain never said I had to leave the city, only that my time serving the Emperor was at its end. Now, if you please, I’m doing no harm here; leave me be.” The man said firmly, flatly.

“I still think you need to gather your things and-” One of them was saying but the brunette woman seemed to have heard enough, standing and walking over. She  _ towered _ over the two guards, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.

“I think  _ you _ should get lost. Either do your job or be kind to the civilians present. If you can’t, how about I show you how such disputes are handled back in Whiterun?” Her tone was just shy of a wolf’s growl and Tango found himself sinking all the more into his seat, glad he wasn’t the one to have drawn her ire.

A stillness fell over the inn, everyone was watching now, not a single fork or spoon remained in motion, every tense breath could be heard. The woman stared down the two guards fearlessly, the two stared back… up at her stubbornly, but finally they glanced at each other, sneered at the apparently disgraced guard then left. The thick tension bled out of the room like a leaky waterskin and more than a few people could be heard letting go of held breath.

“Thanks, you didn’t need to risk your skin for a stranger.” The former legionnaire said, glancing to the tall woman.

“I get a bit irked seeing power-drunk idiots throwing their weight around, just hope they don’t try to jump you later.” She said with a wave, heading back to her seat.

That did sound bad, but it seemed like for now, peace would settle back in and after all that… Tango found himself more exhausted than before. Glancing at his empty bowl he figured it was a good time to call it a night, so that he did, heading up to the room he’d been given a key for earlier. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, glancing at the doors then double checking the wooden tag tied with a bit of string to the key, matching the numbers he found his room…

He was almost brought to tears, a pulling in his chest at the sight beyond the door; of the simple but  _ nice _ bed, with well made, comfortable looking linens and blanket. By the nine… how long had it been? How long had it been since he’d even been in the same  _ room _ as a real bed? It took a moment to pull himself back together enough to step into the room enough to close the door after and once he was moving he wasted no time in pulling off his armor. The rug felt nice under his sore feet as he made his way to it, pulling back the covers to all but fall in. It was  _ so soft _ compared to all he’d known for so long and the linens really were of quality, smooth and soft. He snuggled in, wrapping himself up, doing as the innkeeper had noted earlier, Tango spoke a single word and the enchanted candles extinguished themselves, bathing the room in darkness. That didn’t stay pitch as a starless night though, after a moment a soft blue glow awoke from the desk on the other side of the room, a simple stone set into a holder cast the room in a soft glow. It was enough to see by if he needed to get up before the dawn but dim enough to easily sleep through.

He guessed it would also ease the minds of those who didn’t like total darkness as well. It was rather lovely he thought, before finally dozing off to sleep.

\--

The sun was already peeking over the city walls by the time Jevin made his way back to the arena. He gave little thought or notice to the grounds he’d seen hundreds and hundreds of times on his various rounds on the watch. The city he knew inside and out without having to really look. Things out of place would stand out to him, but as it stood he’d pointedly ignore anything suspicious out of pure spite. If the crime went up as a result of him being dismissed then that was the captain’s mistake, not his.

The Bloodworks was filled with the sounds of vigorous morning training and as he stepped out of the entryway he noticed a new face, or rather, perhaps one well known, had joined them. The orc wore a red raiment, he was rather pale, though perhaps that was where he’d earned his arena name. The Gray Prince was offering advice to one of the other yellow team members, one of rank Jevin hadn’t bothered to learn nor did he care. He really had no intentions of getting close to anyone at the moment…

Even if the Breton he’d seen at the inn last night had caught his eye. A handsome blonde who looked like he’d felt out of place. Jevin was fairly sure he’d seen that man before, but he didn’t remember where. There was no point dwelling on it now though, shaking the thought aside as he headed over to talk to Biffa.

“You looking for a match?” The Blademaster asked and Jevin nodded. “Good, head up and prove that yesterday wasn’t a fluke, I believe you but the other Blademaster does not.”

“Fine then.” Jevin shrugged, unbothered as he headed through the Redroom and through the door to the pit beyond. There were fewer spectators this early in the day, but it was enough for him to catch sight of an older redguard man, dressed in heavy armor. His arms were crossed and he was watching the yellow pit pointedly. Jevin was more than certain that he must be the blue team’s Blademaster. Shrugging off the feeling of being watched so scrutinizingly, he moved his focus to the opposite pit, waiting.

“Good morning people of Imperial City! Ren-diggity-dog is back again to call out all the action! First match of the day we’ve two promising Pit Dogs ready to give the arena a fresh coat of paint! Let’s not delay any longer, let the battle begin!” The announcer roared out, stoking some excitement into the small crowd above.

Finally the gates lowered and Jevin started his methodical march across the battleground, slowing as he reached the metal grate at the center, noting that the blue team combatant had stayed near the gate, a bow in hand. Quickly he brought his shield up, blocking the incoming arrow that would have otherwise found its mark in his face. Blade angled to the side, shield up, he rushed in, feeling another arrow whistle past the narrow shield and just barely miss his arm. Then it was too late for the archer to notch another arrow, bringing his own sword up hard and fast, a single slash across the chest and throat sent the archer to the ground, never to rise again.

“Oh and just like that! It’s all over! Return to the Bloodworks Pit Dog, You’ve earned your rest.” the announcer’s voice rattled through the arena.

As he walked Jevin flicked his sword, casting most of the blood from it before pausing to glance back above the blue team pit, but the Blademaster was gone.

\--

To say Tango was torn, it wasn’t quite adequate. He knew his time paid at the inn was up but as he stepped out on the street he already felt… odd. He knew the path before him was a bloody and dangerous one if he wanted to claw his way free of poverty, but the reality of it, the cost. He sighed, shaking his head and turning towards the arena district. He really detested having to fight, but then, that was what had landed him where he was. At least like this he felt like the choices were of his own making, that helped a bit. He wasn’t part of a group of marauders, hiding in a cave and robbing people. This was at least… honest, well… legal. Glancing up there were more people than usual standing at the entrance, one of which was Owen.

“---- so yeah, move him up to gladiator I’d say.” Owen was saying as Tango got into hearing range.

“I was thinking warrior but, you’re a good judge of skill, that seems wise.” The other man said, he was all dressed in red.

Tango paused a little away from them, not wanting to interrupt.

“Eh, you do fine as it is Biffa, I’m just keeping you honest.” Owen said, the jab light hearted.

With a few words of parting they went their separate ways, Biffa going towards the entrance to the yellow team’s Bloodworks. Curious, Tango set back off again, heading down to the blue team Bloodworks himself. It was quite the usual fare, most of the same faces he’d seen yesterday were here again, training or chatting. Crossing between a few Tango found Owen where he usually stood.

“Look who’s back! So, you think you can handle this life or are you here to turn in that raiment?” The Blademaster asked and Tango squared his shoulders.

“I’m here for a fight.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

\--

“So, you’ll be jumping five ranks, congratulations, Gladiator.” Biffa said and Jevin nodded, relaxing a little.

“Good, I’d rather not spend my time here killing people who don’t stand a chance.”

“Morals! That’s rare in here sometimes.” Biffa admitted.

“Doesn’t make as much difference as it should.” Jevin said with a shrug of indifference.

“Well, at any rate, there’s a battle waiting for you after the current match.”

“Good.” Jevin nodded and with that went to sit on the bench near the gate to the Redroom. 

“I overheard your conversation with the Blademaster.” Someone said and Jevin glanced up, it was Agronak.

“What of it?” He asked and the Gray Prince took the seat next to him.

“Well I wanted to congratulate you of course! Not every day someone jumps so far in such a short amount of time.” He explained.

“Thanks, I suppose. It only made sense with my former training.” Jevin shrugged.

“From the legion, yes I heard. So tell me, are you here for the gold more than the glory?”

“That would be it exactly, there is no reason for me to let my skills go to waste when they can still earn me a living.” Jevin stated.

“Indeed. I may have an offer for you then, as grand champion my schedule is quite fixed and I can’t leave the city as often or for as long as I might like. You however, are not held to the same standard. You cannot come back and find matches as long as you haven’t broken the rules. So, I’m willing to pay you good coin to handle an investigation for me.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” Jevin nodded, intrigued.

“Wonderful, here, this key will get you inside, you’ll be going to Crowhaven. I’m a lord’s son, but my mother stole away with me when I was just a babe. If you can, find proof of my heritage. Come back with whatever you can find out and I’ll reward you well.” The Gray Prince promised.

“I’ll head out this evening.” Jevin nodded and as the gate to the Redroom rattled down, he stood. Both he and the Gray Prince glanced that way, but after several long beats no one came down the sloping path.

“Looks like the blue team won.” The Gray Prince noted, it was hard to tell if he was pleased or not.

“Blue team has a ferocious little pit dog that joined yesterday. He fights like a cornered sewer rat.” Biffa noted, marking something off of a piece of paper.

Jevin only shrugged, unconcerned as he headed up the sloping hall, looking forward to a tougher battle ahead.

\--

Tango leaned heavily on the basin, letting its magic wash over him, shaking as he tried to pull himself together again. With each battle things had not gotten easier. Sure he was quickly adapting with the sword, sure he was surviving the battles… but the killing…

He closed his eyes, letting the reality of it sink in, letting that truth settle in as there was no avoiding it. There was a lot of blood on his hands after today alone, there would be so much more ahead. He couldn’t focus on that though, he had to keep carrying on, keep living. With each coin he earned he could better his life, and if he were to fall, it would be someone else earning that gold, someone else bettering their own life. Today alone he’d faced the greedy, the bloodthirsty… and the desperate like himself. That was the way of it though, that was the life of the arena. On unsteady, weary legs, he pushed on, staggering out of the room, passing the next combatant to go up. He rounded the corner, heading for where he knew Owen to be waiting.

“Well done, here’s your pay. I think you should call it a day, only a few more matches tonight anyway.” He said, tossing Tango a pouch of coins he almost didn’t manage to get hold of… it was heavier than the last few.

“Thanks… Yeah, I don’t think another match would be a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t let you go back out there looking half dead. When the basin stops working it’s time to sleep. Anyway, you did well today, Brawler.” Owen said, the new rank catching Tango’s attention.

“I… really?”

“You’ve earned it. Keep it up, take some pointers from the Gray Prince if you get the chance. You’re sharp, you’ll go far if you keep pushing.” Owen informed him and Tango nodded, reaffirmed in his choices.

Mumbling parting words, Tango headed out of the Bloodworks. He could hear the battle within the walls, the cheers, the clash of steel and it made him glad he wasn’t in there right then. The battle sounded intense. He shook his head, heading away from the arena, his sandaled feet carrying him along the old white stones, the Imperial City had seen its fair share of bloodshed, he wondered just how many deaths by a blade had happened within its walls, not just by the arena alone, but of the great battles he was told about as a child. How violent were those battles really? Glancing at the tall, old walls, only barely stained by water and greenery at their bases, well kept they were free of damage. There was no visible story for them to tell, but how much had they actually seen? Was the life he was leading any surprise to those who had lived and fought and died before him? Those were questions that floated through his mind but really, there was no answer to them, not right now. With a silent nod to the guards on duty at the gate he pushed his way through to the market district, heading to the same inn as before. He hadn’t taken the time to count up his coin but he knew it was well more than he’d earned the day before.

The market district was fairly quiet, it was a little before closing for most shops he realized, he had a bit of time to shop if he chose, but he didn’t really know how much he had fully earned. Peeking into the last pouch he’d gotten though, he was almost knocked off his own feet, staring into the coarse fabric bag, he saw more gold settled there than he’d ever managed to collect in all his life previous. It was almost startling, feeling nary unreal. He glanced back up, watching the people milling about their lives for a moment. There were a couple people standing by one of the pavilions, shipping boxes set upon the simple raised patio over which it resided. There was a guard walking past one of the big statues and generally all was quite peaceful. Tango started down the street, glancing one shop sign after another, in search of somewhere that might sell clothes. He’d walked to nearly the opposite side of the district before he finally spotted a place, the sign indicating a tailor. It felt odd, as he pushed the door open and stepped into the warmly lit room. Odd to be part of something so mundane and normal for so many citizens of this very city. For as long as he’d been here, he’d been a lesser member of society, relegated to the slums and barely tolerated by guards.

Now though, it was a little different, perhaps it was the raiment, perhaps those who watched matches in the arena were beginning to recognize him. He wasn’t sure which it was, only that he was able to walk into this rather nice shop and not be thrown out. The shop keeper didn’t look at him with open disgust, nor did she ask him to leave. He was able to look around in peace, the shopkeeper sitting behind the counter, an embroidery hoop in hand. It was holding some fancy looking garment as she wove vibrantly colored thread and the occasional bead into an intricate design. Glancing back at the clothes neatly folded on the tables around, he saw much of that fine work on lots of clothes and honestly, it almost felt like a crime for him to wear something so… high quality. So often his clothes were worn to their barest threads, repaired and repaired and repaired. Glancing across the garments he wasn’t sure what would be the wisest choice but he steadily gravitated to some of the much more simple cuts. After a few minutes he heard the soft rustle of fabric and light clatter of thin wood before the creak of a chair. He looked over to the shopkeeper, worried he’d stayed too long or perhaps made her suspicious with how slow he was in selecting something. She approached him calmly, looking over the table then back to him.

“Not certain what suits you best?” She asked in a soft, melodic voice.

“Not at all.” He admitted, surprised. She just nodded knowingly, going over some of the choices and laying out an outfit.

“How about this, the black and gray doublet is sturdy as well as comfortable. It is just detailed enough for you not to get a sideways glance at the palace but simple enough to drink in any tavern in this city without looking out of place. Paired with… a soft linen blouse, for you I think this deep red would be best. Then, you see, simple black trousers are just right to round the look out.” She explained, laying them out on the table.

The doublet had a distinct shape, most of it black but with a band of gray from the shoulders down either side of the closures of the front. The long, double row of buttons appeared to be made of steel. The sleeves were split from just under where they met the shoulder all the way down to the bracer like cuffs. The black fabric flaring open to reveal more of the gray. The gray fabric itself was woven with a scattered pattern of black feathers. The red blouse would offer a pop of color around the collar where it would ruffle free as well as the cuffs if he desired to let it passed the black bracer design of the doublet, which was also held in place by four steel buttons on each arm. The black pants did seem just the right addition, subtle but with good shape.

“That… will work perfectly, thank you.” Tango said, still surprised by her patience.

“It is no trouble, a warrior such as yourself should have good clothes to enjoy outside the arena. It is no small secret that dressing a way you like will help you feel good, and I say; enjoy that when you can.” She said with an assuring smile.

“I… I will.” He promised with a nod before asking how much he owed her, it was less than he expected if he was being honest. Sure, it was far more than he could have spared a week ago, but now things were different and despite the fact that the amount of coin would have covered room in an inn for several days, he wasn’t concerned.

“If you hurry you might catch the best defense still open, I believe a pair of plate and leather boots would go well.” She advised and he nodded, not going to argue her eye for style.

He hurried once out of the shop, crossing the inner plaza at a half jog to reach the other shop. To his relief the door opened easily, they were still there. Stepping inside the chatter between two shopkeepers died down and their eyes fell on him.

“Welcome to the best defense, what can we help you with?” the first asked and Tango was relieved to have an idea what he was looking for.

“Plate and leather boots.”

“Good choice.” The other shop keeper chuckled, leaning to reach something under his counter and coming up with several pairs of the same boots.

“Certainly better protection than what you’ve got.” The first noted, looking at the spiked sandals of the arena raiment. Not that he could wear anything else into the arena, but he supposed if he traveled outside the city, his feet would be safe.

“Here, see what fits.” the second shopkeeper noted and Tango nodded, he headed over, sitting on a bench and taking each offered pair until one fit.

The leather of the boots was a dark gray, nearly black and the simple steel plates on the shin, the top of the foot and sides of the leg would do well in most skirmishes. They were comfortable as well, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever had the luxury of before. The price was fair and he found it a little easier to let the gold trade hands than even the last interaction. Part of him, still remembering vividly what it was like to live on the streets, wanted to hoard every last coin to ensure he’d have meals through the winter. However, he’d set out to change his life and acting on old rules would do no such thing, so he shoved the thoughts aside.

Finally, it was time to go get some food and rest.

\--

Jevin heaved a sigh as he sat down, taking a seat at the bar this time in hopes of avoiding notice again. He left the seat between himself and the wall vacant though, not wanting to get cornered either. He glanced up when he heard the door again, seeing the blue team combatant from yesterday again. Jevin quietly tried not to think how handsome the man on the opposing team was yet couldn’t quite peel his gaze off of the man while he paid for a night’s stay. Only once he’d walked to a point where Jevin would have had to turn to look at him, did he manage to shake himself free. Jevin stared hard into his drink after that, trying to squash the fluttering feeling in his chest. He had no time for romance, let alone the sort of scandal that would likely result in a yellow team combatant starting something with someone from the blue team. He couldn’t risk getting thrown out… though Biffa hadn’t noted any rules against that sort of thing.

_ No. _

He all but mentally slapped himself, downing another long swig of ale before he heard the clatter of a plate set down before him.

“Life’s short you know, Jevin.” Iskall noted and when Jevin set the mug down, sure enough, there the innkeeper was.

“Is it? Or is it gruelingly long?” Jevin shot back, thinking of the things that had already gone wrong in his life.

“I saw the way you were looking at him. Buy the man a few drinks,  _ talk _ to him. You never know where things might go.” Iskall pointed out, glancing up past Jevin to cast a loving smile at either Mumbo or Grian. It was hard to guess which was in town and Jevin didn’t care to look.

Instead he turned his attention to his plate, to the roast venison and baked vegetables, all seasoned to perfection. Jevin was half certain that Iskall had traded his soul to a daedric prince to be able to cook so well. Whatever else Iskall had to say was lost to the ambient noise of the room as Jevin pointedly ignored him. They’d been friends since shortly after Jevin had been posted in the Imperial City years ago, that didn’t mean he wanted to listen to the man’s well-meaning dating tips. He sank into his own thoughts while he ate, none too happy the lot of them. The battles that day had been more challenging, they had lasted long enough to give a good show, but in the end those he faced had still been sent to their deaths more guaranteed than the other Blademaster likely intended. Those he’d spent the whole day around had gone on and on about glory, but there was no glory in bloodshed. Death was cold and unwavering, a void that would take them all. Fighting in the arena just quickened the process. At least in defending the Emperor there was some honor… at least, he’d thought. He wasn’t so sure about any of it now.

The air in the room shifted, someone was approaching, he glanced up to see the blue team combatant was out of the baths, he was no longer wearing his raiment though. Instead the blonde looked more like an out of place noble, his fine clothes suited him well, the colors of black, gray and red bringing out more natural beauty than Jevin wanted to admit. His heart felt like it forgot to beat for a moment as the dashing man decided to take the remaining seat at the bar… right… next… to him…

Clearly his stare hadn’t gone unnoticed when the blonde offered him an uncertain smile, a smile so beautiful that for a moment Jevin’s mind just ceased. His heart caught in his throat in the best of ways before fluttering back into place and he was unsure how long it took him to pull himself back together. However long it was, the man was sitting and talking to Iskall by the time Jevin’s mind had resumed turning again.

Perhaps he should have listened to Iskall’s advice earlier.

He hadn’t though…

“Are.. you alright?” unfairly, the blonde’s voice was as lovely as his face and Jevin felt like melting into the floor about then to escape whatever it was his heart wanted to do.

“I uh, yeah, I saw you yesterday and didn’t expect you to uh, clean up so nicely.” Jevin said, stumbling through the flirt hard enough he could practically hear Iskall cringe despite the innkeeper being halfway across the bar.

“Uh… thanks. I decided to treat myself to some new clothes.” The blonde said with a nervous chuckle.  _ Oh damn the gods, he was cute too. _

“Good choice, they look nice.” Jevin said, managing that one a bit smoother. It seemed to cheer the blonde up a bit.

“You think so? The seamstress seemed to know what she was doing. I’m Tango by the way.”

“Jevin.” He responded, having to force himself not to finish with his former rank in the legion. Of course, after the commotion yesterday Jevin would be surprised if Tango didn’t already know he was a former legionnaire. If he did, he didn’t seem to care so that was something at least.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Tango smiled.

“Likewise, say, you look capable…” Jevin said before he could stop himself, before he could think better of the words about to fall from his lips.

“Oh?” The blonde muttered, curious and waiting for him to continue.

“Would you like to join me for a quest out near the gold coast? It’s nothing I can’t handle but a bit of company would be nice.” Jevin said, hoping he didn’t sound too flat in his invitation.

“That… sounds like a nice change of pace…” Tango muttered, seeming to consider the offer seriously.

“I’ll split the earnings with you of course, you’ll not be out of pay for a couple days gone.” Jevin added, hoping to sweeten the deal.

“Count me in!” Tango said cheerfully, seeming to like the idea all the more with that worry off his shoulders. Jevin would give the other the entirety of the earnings if it meant seeing that heart melting smile again.

All too soon though, Tango had turned his attention to the food set before him. It seemed an easy guess that this was the first and only meal he’d had all day, Jevin couldn’t imagine the fatigue of fighting on an empty stomach. With Tango distracted, Jevin glanced up, Iskall cast him a wink so Jevin realized he must have been doing alright so far. At least, he hoped so.

He really hoped so.

  
  



End file.
